Call It (What You Want)
by Clearly am Intrigued
Summary: He decides from a very young age that it doesn't matter who his soulmate is. Fitz is not falling in love with them. Not because of an outdated, archaic reason as silly as a mark on his skin.


Fitz/Skye (Daisy Johnson) Soulmate AU. Characters in this are aged down to kids.

* * *

Fitz knows all about soulmates.

Everyone does.

After all it is common knowledge. Like knowing that the world is round, or that gravity exists. It's a simple fact of life. One day, no one knows when exactly, he will find a stranger's name on his body. And their fate will be sealed.

So yes, Fitz knows about soulmates. He has even taken it upon himself to learn all the science and research behind the soulmate phenomenon and understood them- to a certain degree. But, the widely accepted fact that he is destined to fall in love with whomever faith (though it actuality it is evolutionary biology) dictates is downright stupid.

So, he decides from a very young age that it doesn't matter who his soulmate is. Fitz is not falling in love with them. Not because of an outdated, archaic reason as silly as a mark on his skin.

Everyone tries to assure him that he won't help but change his mind when her name comes in, let alone be this stubborn when he meets his soulmates.

But, they're wrong and he'll just have to prove it to them.

-/-

The mark comes in when he is thirteen years old; one mundane evening after supper. Fitz is washing the dishes when he feels a sharp searing pain lasting long enough for the time it would take for someone to scribble their name. When it is over it's impossible to miss the deep blue, verging on black, tattoo of a name staring innocently back at him as if it had always been at home on Fitz' pale flesh. The china in his hand falls out of his forgotten grip and into the sink with a soft splash causing soapy water to soak his pyjamas and splash the kitchen floor.

His mother who turns from where she was storing the leftovers in the fridge, a kitchen towel in hand and half a tut on her lip, pauses. Her eyes, which are so like his own, widens and a sharp gasp is the only warning before she embraces him; her arms tight, loving and unmistakably happy.

Fitz's mind is racing and if he's not mistaken his heart, the traitorous organ, is thumping much faster than usual.

"Your soulmate," his mother smiles as she pulls away, her gentle hands grasping his damp one to examine the slanted, almost messy calligraphy that curved along the edge of his right hand, from thumb to wrist. "Daisy Johnson."

It is the first time Fitz hears his soulmates name out loud. There's an undoubtedly pleasant warmth which he feels from the mere sound of it.

"No." The word is sharp, resounding and resolute. He exhales slowly in a failed attempt to force his heart rate back to a normal pace, "I mean yes. Yes, she's my soulmate of course she is- she wouldn't be marked on me if she wasn't."

Fitz swallows harshly as he meets his mum's kind eyes: She has heard his speeches of not needing nor wanting a soulmate more than most (a total of twenty-seven times to be exact), but Fitz knew that she held hope that he would outgrow childhood quirks. He knows he's tearing apart her long-fantasized day dreams of who his future soulmate would be; musings of grand-kids and a white wedding.

"She is the one biology says is perfect for me-" He can't help the slight mocking tone that slips into his words, before sobering. "But, I- I don't have to love her. And I won't."

People could live a full, enjoyable life without arms or legs: Fitz is certain he can go through his life more than satisfactory without 'another half'. His mouth thins adamantly as he excuses himself and, after his mother nods in consent, heads off to his room.

-/-

Fitz does his best in the next few months to ignore the name now etched permanently on his skin. He firmly pushes aside the odd moments of weakness when he (the bond within him, he reminds himself) has the urge to gently stroke the dark-blue penmanship. It would be far easier if it was in a less noticeable location, like say, behind the shell of his ear or at the back of his knee. Some place that is was out of sight and easier to forget. As it happens Fitz tends to use his hands a lot. And as such is often reminded that somewhere out there, there is a girl with his name.

-/-

Meeting his soulmate happens sooner than he expects. He had hope for at least a few years to map out a plan; seeing as they'll more than likely cross paths eventually given that they have each other's name. His soulmate barely gives him four months.

He comes home from school one afternoon with his backpack loosely slung on his shoulders and a bruised arm. It is an ordinary if not boring day in which he comes home to find a small girl, close to if not his age with shoulder length dark hair and wide brown eyes. She's sitting on the front porch of his house in clothes that are slightly too big for her small frame. As he approaches she perks to attention -shooting to her feet faster than imagined.

"Can I help you?" Fitz is only half paying attention as he fishes for his keys in his pockets.

"No- Or well, actually, yes," She says.

He's just unlocked the front door when he turns to shoot her a frown over his shoulder. She's half murmuring to herself about how this is not at all how she planned, and Fitz is about to open his mouth about to tell her that they weren't looking to buy whatever girl scout's cookies she was selling when she squares her shoulder and meets his gaze.

"Hi, I'm Skye," Skye says quickly, followed by a last-second wave. "And I'm your soulmate."

The first to cross Fitz' mind is that she is that she's wrong. Despite not ever wanting one, he knows the name of his soulmate as clearly as his own and that wasn't it.

She's got the wrong person.

It's a common enough mistake. He is about to tell her that she has the wrong Leopold Fitz when she steps forward- a light frown crinkles her forehead as she searches his face as though it was the answer to some yet unknown question. She steps too close, seeing as when she does so her hand brushes against his. It's the gentlest stroke but- Whoa.

Fitz prides himself at having, even at such a young age, a higher IQ and vocabulary that most. But right now, yeah, 'Whoa' is pretty much the only word he has for this moment.

He knows what this is.

He has read all about this moment. The intensified awareness of everything: from the distance between them to the light tingling echo of where they'd briefly touch. And from the surprised gasp and step back from his soulmates end he knows she feels it too. The bond tightening as two soulmates meet for the first time.

"You're- you…" he stutters.

His mind is almost spinning too fast for him to grab a coherent thought.

"It's a bit of a surprise, I know, springing it on you like that. I probably should have called first or something." She (his soulmate) says.

Fitz runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight, looking at nothing and everything but mostly trying to gain control on his scattered mind.

"How did you find me?" He asks at last.

From the reaction it's a question she didn't want asked. She shuffles back and forth on her heels, clearly uncomfortable , eyeing the potted plants that meagerly decorated the porch with far too much interest.

"I, uh, I looked you up."

It's too much. He never wanted this.

"You can't be here." His words aren't meant to hurt but they'll cut all the same. Even now he can feel the yearning pull of the bond, and Fitz steels up in response. "Look, the thing is- I don't want a soulmate."

It's an unprecedented situation he knows. But even so he absolutely doesn't feel bad. Whatever that gnawing feeling is at the pit of his stomach it is definitely not guilt. So, firmly ignoring the discomfort Fitz quickly opens the door. And without giving himself even a second to hesitate steps through his house before firmly shutting out her sad looking eyes.

After all if he knew one thing for certain; it was that he had never wanted a soulmate.


End file.
